


She Lives

by ecoman12



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Heather Chandler lives au, Heathers - Freeform, Not really a shippy, Some of the medical stuff in here will be most likely innacurate, but I couldn't resist the irony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecoman12/pseuds/ecoman12
Summary: Heather has survived the impossible, and now it's Veronica's turn.





	She Lives

The first thing Heather felt was pain. It was centered in her stomach, like a knot getting tighter and tighter, stinging with discomfort. Her eyelids were heavy, and she managed to pry them open. The lights above her were glaring, screaming at her, but she refused to shut her eyes again, choosing instead to open them wide and fully take in her surroundings. She was pretty sure she was in a hospital, lying in a bed. The sheets were strict around her. She moved her head to one side and saw her dad sleeping in a chair, snoring softly. Heather whispered, “hey, hey, dad.” He didn't move, just kept on sleeping. “Psst, dad.” Steve Chandler’s eyes fluttered open and widened when he saw his daughter awake.

“Sweetie pumpkin!” He dragged his chair over to the bed so he could sit right next to her. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Not so good, dad.” Heather replied, pulling up the wounded puppy facade she always used around her father. “What happened? I don't remember anything.” 

“You don't remember anything…?” Steve’s expression was wary, his eyes looking away, then back. “You…you were depressed, darling, you tried to commit suicide.” 

Heather’s faux expression melted at that statement. “What the fuck are you talking about.” 

Steve reeled at that. “Young lady! Do not use such vulgar language!” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you mean I tried to kill myself? I never did that.”

“You did,” Steve said pointedly, looking uncomfortable about the subject. “I don't want to rehash the situation, but you drank a mug of drano and fell into a coffee table. It's lucky I was home. Don't you remember your note? Listen, honey pie, if you ever need to talk to someone, I called the best therapist in the state--” 

“Note?” Steve hesitated, then pulled out a sheet of paper, unfolding it and handing it to her. Heather read it over and almost gagged. This note was not written by her, but the script was a perfect replica of her own. There was only one person who could have done that. Heather furrowed her eyebrows, the paper crinkling in her fists. “Sawyer,” she hissed under her breath. She remembered now, the two demons in her bedroom, Jessie James and Veronica, coming to ‘apologize’. She had drank something that didn't taste like a hangover cure, it had tasted like soap and it burned her throat. She had choked and fell, hearing something smash, then feeling nothing at all. 

“Sawyer, sweetums? Veronica Sawyer? Would you like to see her?” 

“God, no, the last thing I want to see is here ugly mug…”

“I'm guessing this is a bad time, then.” Heather’s eyes widened and she looked toward the source of the voice. There she was, Veronica Sawyer, standing in the door with her ‘ugly mug’ set in an uncomfortable and guilty expression. She was holding a bouquet of pink and red flowers in wrinkled plastic. 

Heather turned to Steve, fluttering her eyelashes. “Father dear, would you give me and my darling friend, Veronica, some time to talk?” 

“Of course, honey bear.” Steve rested his hand tenderly on his daughter’s for a moment before standing, walking past Veronica, and disappearing out the door. Once he shut it slowly, Heather glared at her darling friend. 

Veronica began her prepared speech. “Listen, I came to apolog--”

“You. Fucking. Shitface,” she began, promptly interrupting Veronica, which was not surprising. “If I could get up your stupid apology would be would be your last goddamn words.” 

“It wasn't me, it was JD--”

“Don't drag some guy into this. You take your own consequences for your own shitty actions. Once we get back to school, you'll be more then finished, you'll be lucky to live in a fucking hole once I’m done with you.” Heather looked ready to say more, but she winced and put her hand to her stomach. “God, it feels like I swallowed acid or some shit.” 

The only thing Veronica could think to say was that, technically, Heather had swallowed a very strong base, but that didn't seem appropriate. She sighed and jutted her thumb over her shoulder to the door. “Well, Heather and Heather are here to see you, too.” 

Heather didn't say anything, so Veronica stepped back and opened the door. “You guys can come in now," she called. Heather McNamara and Heather Duke walked into the hospital room, followed by Mr. Chandler. McNamara went immediately to the Heather in bed, hugging her and sobbing. Chandler rolled her eyes, but it was obvious she enjoyed the ravenous attention as she patted McNamara’s arm comfortingly. Duke stood awkwardly beside them, looking immensely guilty, even more so then Veronica did.

“Hey, Heather, I'm glad you didn't die,” was all Duke could think to say, and she instantly regretted her entire existence the moment the sentence came out of her mouth. 

Chandler gave her an unimpressed look. Even pale in a hospital bed with a sobbing McNamara slung around her neck, she still managed to look intimidating. “Are you sure about that?” 

Duke’a face tightened. “Yes.” 

Chandler rolled her eyes and held out her arm, the free one that wasn't around McNamara. Duke didn't know what to do. “C’mon,” Chandler insisted, gesturing Duke towards her. Duke wandered closer, and once she was near enough, Chandler yanked her into a hug. Veronica watched as Duke looked wary at first, before accepting the hug rather gratefully. While Steve watched them happily, Veronica watched them with a face ridden with distress. Her thoughts were conflicting, because even though trying to kill someone was against everything Veronica thought was right, it had brought upon perhaps the first honest act of friendship Veronica had ever seen the Heathers participate in. 

“Aren't you going to join them?” Steve asked Veronica. She glanced sideways at the three Heathers, still hugging. 

“No…I'm not much of a hugger,” she replied awkwardly. She didn't know what to do with the flowers in her hands, so she just messed with the plastic. The crinkling sound it made was deafening. 

“So, when can I motor?” Chandler suddenly said. The three Heathers had separated now, McNamara perched on the bed and Duke in a chair right next to them. 

“Oh, well, it's been about a week since your incident,” Steve began once he realized he was the one being asked the question. “The doctor says you may need another week here. They have to make sure there's absolutely none of that stuff you drank still left in your system. Also, you have to take those.” Steve pointed to an orange pill bottle on the stand by Heather’s bed. She picked it up and looked at the label. 

“What the f--heck is this,” she said, looking at the bottle in disgust. 

“Your pills sweetheart, you have to take one every morning and…well, I don't want to embarrass you in front of your friends.” 

“Whatever, what are they for?” 

“They…they make you vomit, you have to take one every morning.” 

“Throw up, I have to throw up every morning.” 

“It's only for the next month, and you have your friends to help you!” McNamara nodded in an oddly eager way, Duke was obviously trying to hide a triumphant face in response to this sweet, sweet revenge. She eventually nodded. They all suddenly looked to Veronica. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, we'll help you, Heather.” 

Chandler groaned, making a point to glare specifically at Veronica. She shook the bottle and the pills clanked around. “This sucks shit.” 

“Now you listen here, Heather.” Steve scowled, pointing an accusing finger at his daughter. “This is an unfortunate situation but it's no reason to go and spew out foul words like that!” Chandler didn't bother retaliating. She felt exhausted, like her eyelids were tied to heavy weights. She could barely keep them open. 

Veronica seemed to notice this first. “Thanks for letting us visit, Mr. Chandler, we’ll go now.” 

“Mr. Chandler, we’re not sure if we know how to get out of the hospital. Can you help us?” McNamara’s motives seemed innocent enough, but there was an evil glint in her eye that Veronica did not like.

“Yes, alright.” Steve escorted them out of the room, and it was just Veronica and Heather Chandler left. Heather looked asleep, so Veronica figured she could just drop off the flowers she was holding and go. She stuck the flowers in the vase next to Heather’s bed, but before she could turn around, Heather grabbed her by the collar and pulled her close. Veronica made a gagging sound that was half surprised, half scared. 

“If you think this is over, little Miss Veronica Sawyer, you're dead wrong.” Heather let go of Veronica and she went stumbling back. Then it was like Heather had never woken up. She lay in a coffin of satin, flowers around her and clasped in her perfectly manicured hands. It was dead quiet in the church, only Veronica, except a sound. The sound was muffled at first, but as she walked up between the pews, the sound and the source were clear. Steve Chandler, sobbing at his daughter’s coffin-side. Steve Chandler, who loved Heather as best he could, who didn't deserve this grief. Veronica stood there, watching him sob. She thought to all the people who Heather had tortured, Martha Dunnstock, Heather Duke, and countless others. Was his grief lesser than their's? Or vise versa?

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your name?” A familiar voice floated over her like smoke. She turned around to see JD, looking self-important with his trenchcoat and smug expression. “Veronica Sawyer, how great is that name?” Veronica remembered him tricking Heather into taking the poisonions drink, remembered him handing it to Heather, knowing it could kill her. Now, here he was, buttering her up, and she couldn't get enough of it. He wrapped his arms around her, and they stood there, swaying to the sobs of Steve Chandler. “I took a leaf from your book,” he suddenly hissed, his arms tightening around her. “I had the note prewritten, the bitch has to die.” 

JD was gone, there was no sobbing Steve, no church. Heather was in front of her on the hospital bed, looking almost dead, until her chest rose with a breath, and back down as she exhaled. Veronica did so too, her hands shaking as she wiped her sweaty brow. She opened the door and left, shutting it as quietly as she could behind her. A red petal fell from the roses and brushed Heather’s arm on its way to the floor.


End file.
